Cycling with a wide open smile.

Prologue: Views from Out there:

A recent trip to a bike able city in Colorado reminded me how I love to pedal and ride.  I love to ride for the exercise, I love to ride for the adventure, I love to ride for solitude, companionship, transportation, and for an alternate view of the world.  I've always considered myself a cyclist, at times more serious than others.

Here in Chicagoland, it's easy to get out of the cycling routine.  In order to get a serious workout in, one must get outdoors at a very early hour to avoid the stress and noise and congestion of traffic and other obstacles.  What's more, almost all of our rides in this area are riddled with poorly paved streets, too many stop signs and traffic lights, poor visibility, train tracks, difficult weather, and a general lack of interesting or challenging topography.

Even in the best of times, we're often so harried by the time we get out into the *surrounding environment* that we drop our veneer of good cheer and put on a game face and make the whole experience a bit of a tough-guy *I survived that ride* sort of slug-fest.  I've long contended that no ride of over an hour or so in this region ever does *not* include a moment in which I slam on my brakes, heart racing, convinced that I barely escaped the fangs of death.

And so, is it a wonder that I leave dust to collect on my beloved bicycles?  Even at a gorgeous time of year (2015 Autumn has been spectacular) it's easy to trade the wheels in for any of the following: running shoes, gym membership, library card, knitting needles, smart phone…you know the drill, basically anything else that isn't as exhausting and demoralizing as having some guy honk and throw a middle finger at a cycling middle aged woman in western suburbia (phew!)

Imagine my joy and wonder whenever I visit some place that I can ride blissfully. Safely. Pleasantly. With great exuberance.  With open lungs, open face, open smile.  I can wave at passers-by.  I can stop and photograph.  I can park, lock and buy some delicious grub. I can bathe in my own thoughts. I can dream, I can imagine, I can plan.  What joy.   I am so fortunate for all that I have in my own home, but it's so delightful to be able to experience some of the things that are hard to come by at home.  In this case, It was a respite well worth the travel, and leaving my family behind.

 Addendum: Bikeable Cities:

 Lest I oversimplify, dear loyal follower, here's a *road map* to identify when you think you might be in friendly territory.  If you answer yes to more than half of these bullets, well, then, BINGO!

1. Bike trails constructed in a fashion that is continuous, rather than sporadic.
2. Bike trails that are accompanied by useful maps and guide posts.
3. Bike trails that connect the inner core of a community with an outer lying area where roads are broad and shoulders provide cycling avenues.
4. Bike trails that are well marked and broad enough that cyclists, pedestrians, and others may share without attacking one another intentionally or accidentally.
5. Bike trails intersect with city or village services that make them functional for some, entertaining for others.
6. In urban centers, bike lines are well painted and signified.  
7. Bike lanes do not discontinue spontaneously, and do not overlap with extremely heavily trafficked car lanes.
8. Automobile drivers, although sometimes clueless, are generally patient.
9. Automobile drivers do not, reflexively, honk, lift middle finger, shake head vehemently or yell behind glass at a rate that I would deem *astonishingly high*.
10. You probably wouldn't hear the phrase: *get on the sidewalk where you belong!* too often.
11. Parking spaces for cyclists are ample and not an *afterthought*.
12. The parking racks are usually a little newer than ca. 1970.

"Toto, I do declare! We're not in Kansas, anymore!"

outdoorsy, active-gal-type-blogamajig, thing!!!!

Westhaven Guest House

And….she's back!!!! Less encumbered, more jazzed and ready as ever for new adventures out in the world.  Recently, my younger child looked over my shoulder as I labored over a blog post.  She insisted, aloud, that I wasn't Unencumbered These Days….I urged her on, and as it turns out, her definition of Unencumbered Woman is one who bikes, plays, and cavorts about in the world, as I often profess to do.  True, to a point, but I picked at her thread and said that actually the Unencumbered Woman means many things, and the only thing that it always means is that she is a gal who is attempting to unload burdens, make life simpler, lighter, less obligatory, sometimes more or less fun, but  there's never a pat recipe for this Unencumbered-ness.  The very act of thinking about the baggage we carry can be a quieting of the noise of every day, whatever sort of noise it is we are confronting.
But I digress, because, this week I embarked on a good old-fashioned adventure worthy of an outdoorsy, active-gal-type-blogamajig, thing.  So….take that, little one!!!

The plan, as conceived, was that I would drive to my friends' house a few hours from here, since there's no traffic, hills, and a whole lotta gravel roads that we can tool around on, with fat tires and not a care in the world.  Sounded like an ideal date to me, and since I stood her up all summer on our Madison training rides and Ironman itself, I figured it was the least I could do.  Besides, what with Ironman behind me and the kids back in school, I sort of have a little window in my schedule that I haven't seen in a while.  My plan was to drive out of town on Wednesday night so I could crash at the (yes) guest house, and wake up rarin' to go.  What a life, huh?

Trader Joe's? The modern equivalent of TV dinners.

 But leaving my suburbia at five-ish doesn't come without it's own costs.  It's only when I leave at this time of day that I realize how essential my very existence is, every single day, between, say, four PM and 9PM.  So, let's just start with the obvious: 1. Rides.  2. Dinner.  The rest, I figure they can work out on their own.  I made a few quick calls to make sure transportation was in place and my companion's ETA was not too far off.  He also had an evening meeting, so as it turned out, the one kid came home on her bike at about 4:00, the other got picked up at 5:35, Peter got home at about 5:40, then made dinner, the big kid has non-stop homework, Peter leaves for meeting at about 6:45, the little one gets dropped off at about 7:00, and so on (I got a text about five minutes after I left (5:20), from the younger: "why are youlettingherbabysitmeshe'sbeingsomean?")  Let me just say, the essential requirement of unencumberment is Heartless Selfishness.  I drove on.  They've got this. No problem.

Loaded, ready to go.

A lot easier than traveling with four.

Often, a road trip gives me time to think.   In fact, I've always had a soft spot for road trips.  Hurts that our roadways can be so clogged, unforgiving, and unglamorous (not to mention wasteful and expensive), but I can always settle into a conversation with myself while my R&B commercial station plays the evening set of the "Ghost DJ", or I can learn a few things before I become totally nauseated by the drone of "Marketplace" on NPR (the other night I learned that fifty percent of Americans are one $400 unplanned expense away from financial ruin. OK driving on).

Ahh…the open road, beautiful sprawl.  It's what we're about.

Lookie here! Sunset!  Making progress, fewer cars on the Rod Blagevocich tollway!

So arrival time, amidst stars, crickets, and total darkness.  I'm feeling decompressed already.  The guesthouse (popular with couch surfers) is a gem.  We're all hugs, talk about tomorrow, last week's Ironman, and a little bedtime tea.  Looking forward to sleep with No Cats, I won't lie.

Almost every piece is a found object, craft fully put in place.

Nothing like waking up with nothing on the mind except coffee and a no-drop-ride.  The day promised perfect weather and quiet.  I could definitely get used to this part of the field trip.

And it's a sunrise!!!! Who says that rural IL isn't beautiful!?  All in the eye of the beholder, and I must say that my companions have found and built their own piece of jaw-dropping beauty.  Not without the difficult labor of many many years in this spot.    







After a little coffee and granola, we hiked the grounds.  Friends have quite a spread with motocross bike trails, hiking, quarry, wildlife, and old farm buildings, lovingly kept standing.  I'm in awe of the delightful whimsy coupled with essential carpentry and construction skills.  We're not in Oak Park anymore!

         

Uphill, old chicken coop, trails, woods, quarry. Wow.

Guesthouse Kitchen window

 Our walk took us through dew soaked brush, for the better part of an hour.  If i have to lead this tour next time, I'll still get lost.  What a spread!

I was having so much fun just being away from home that I really could have skipped the ride.  After all, it's not like I've been that itchy to ride lately, but with the encouragement of a monster athlete, I was on my trusty Cannondale and we hit the road.  The scenery was quiet, corn and soy fields, a smattering of houses, barns, lots of silos, and scrub forests here and there.  We were comfortable in the fall sunlight and the wind was unusually quiet.  I stopped once or twice for photos, and this particular farm arrested me.  I love the haunting allure of styles that have come and gone.  I love the very essence of seeing what is there.  And in a state like Illinois, in particular, the void that separates urban from suburban from rural is such gaping hole.  Not that this solitary cyclist can stare into that gap and create any sense, any community, any future for it all, but for a moment wonder what it's like,  what it's like for someone else.  Someone else not far from here, not far, really.

And so i sat on a saddle for a few hours.  An accomplishment that I have to credit to a friend who saw a need to rescue me from myself before I let my lack of cycling get totally out of hand!  After this, showers, snacks, more coffee and yarn work.  An early supper of catfish on the deck and I was headed back to the land of screaming swim meets, homework deadlines, and anxious drivers.  Alright, as long as I'm planning the next trip!  Get out there, and have fun!!!

Woodstock to Ellison Bay in Three Days, Three Hundred Miles

 Here it is! Three days of riding fun in the early days of summer!  We all started in Woodstock Illinois, which is about an hour outside of the sprawling metropolis.  We hit some rain on Saturday morning, and felt the solid northeast wind as soon as we took off.

But the temps were comfortable, we had good navigable routes, and were destined for a nice bundle of mileage-rich days with rolling hills and no traffic.  A perfect Summer weekend.  Jack calls the ride the Yooper Challenge, since the ride terminates after four days of riding to his cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but I planned to break off after two days of riding.  My own ride would end in Ellison Bay, on the tip of the Door County Peninsula in Wisconsin.  One thing about documenting these rides, is that it's usually been tough going to ride and stop for photographs.  With a plan of a hundred miles each day, we best not be stopping too often.  That's why this year, with the celebrated bike sag kit that Jilly gifted me this year, I was able to point and shoot while riding!

Thank you Jilly! You must be a genius or something!

The sack hangs nicely off my top tube and I can fit wallet, phone, camera, map,  all in a location easier to reach than rear pockets or panniers. Our first day was fun-filled, but per the tortuous wind and some rain and even some detours thanks to the battling navigation skills of JR, KN and the Wiz himself, I'm not proud of any day one photos.

Let me get this straight...so you run for 4 hours at a time...for training? -JC

We met Ken for lunch in Palmyra, WI and that was a success, onward into the wind we forged, only to land in Mayville at an unusually late hour.  Let's just say that we skipped cocktail hour and headed into town for our ritual argument over the difference between broasted, broiled and, of course fried.

 Look up there!  It's broasted, no it's roasted, no it's broiled!  Oh hell, just look at the house behind you, the midcentury detail will take you back to whatever sort of food preparation is most evocative to you! 

Sunday Morning delivered terrific weather, on the face of it, but we were served, again, a relentless wind that fluctuated between 10 and 20 mph.  A potential risk of the one way journey is such, riding into the merciless wind with no respite of a tailwind. But alas, how can I complain when my strong friends insisted on my draft for hours at a time?  

Practically painless.

Upon finishing a ride such as this, it's often difficult to encapsulate the experience.  But my obsession with nostalgia and longing is what emerges when I look at my photo selection.  If only I could give form to the built structures out there in the open or tucked into woodsy and fielded areas.  Mobile homes, in their own simple beauty carrying that very American dream and the barns, rural industry and homes in all states of occupancy, love, and forlorn.

Against the always amazing and shifting sky, it is all so breathtaking and life giving.  This outbuilding and mobile home was very near a somewhat major town-intersection.  The guys were around the corner getting a shot of a great abandoned mill building, but something about it looked to stagey to capture.  So I hopped around, knowing that something my style was near by. It was a few minutes later that we stopped to check the map(s) and chuckled that there was some sort of difficulty following the masterful navigation of our absentee leader.  What's a few extra miles when it gives us a tailwind for a few minutes?

It's not easy to get a photo of JC when his mouth is closed, but who can argue with the espousal of wisdom?

And it's lunchtime.  See all that sunlight, no shade?  We had plenty of this.  Those that remembered the sunscreen and lip balm did better than me.  My lips were a wreck for days after the trip.

Great article about this deli's attempt to combat the local presence of Walmart.

Time to get back on the road.  Not exactly ripping speed, and we can certainly blame it on the loll-gagging of the one woman in the bunch.  I'm not afraid of saying that as I get older, I like to stop, take pictures, and grab a gatorade.

Never too far from DQ.

Don't forget to position that helmet properly, apply sunscreen, and check out the hogs in the background.

And then we're on our way to Green Bay, over half way there and bearing down on more relentless wind.

Sometimes, riding through Wisconsin, one gets the impression that life must be idyllic out here.  But then we think of all the things that folks have to put up with in the country, and remember why all those beautiful farm buildings are falling down and all those old German houses are boarded up or on the market. 

Our final ten miles or so. A relief, at last, to be shaded from the wind on a path heading into the downtown area.  It's sunny, the water is sparkling, folks are out enjoying the amazing weather.  It's near 5:00 and we're feeling great.  Anticipating a shower, rest, and dinner out with friends.  Who could be so lucky?

There they go...my friends.

Yup, that's the Green Bay we've all heard about.  Clean living at it's best.

Sunset after dinner in old town Green Bay.

You guessed it.  Green Bay Road on the Northshore of Chicago actually connected to Green Bay!  Go figure. 

An end to day two.  Everybody is in good spirits, it's off to a night of rest, ready to finish this ride.  My day three is solitary, so I'm feeling a little sad to lose the benefit of the draft and the company of friends, but I can see a good opportunity to take more pictures and stop whenever I want.  Finally liberated from the ruthless drive of the guys, I'm gonna keep my own schedule, today.

Nicolet Road out of Green Bay

Morning. Out of Green Bay, heading north and east.

This old schoolhouse looked so sweet in the morning light.

How many of these amazing German farmhouses do I see?  Heartbreaking.

I was sort of anxious about getting to Sturgeon Bay, since I've ridden from Sturgeon Bay to Ellison Bay many times and know the roads, which would feel more typical.  I stopped in Sturgeon Bay for lunch and thoroughly enjoyed the charm of the touristy feel of Sturgeon Bay.

After lunch I still had a hefty dose of headwinded riding, but I grabbed the camera and took as many photos as I wanted heading north to our house.

I never tire of the scenery as I ride across the peninsula.  It's sad, it's happy, it's artsy, it's authentic, it's fake, it evokes my own memories, it's natural, it's safe, it's Wisconsin, it's "the Cape Cod of the Midwest", it's all that and more.  Today, with brilliant sky and a holiday weekend in my future, it was simply perfect.  I love it up here.  Always a dose of quiet and an opportunity to remove myself from stress, technology, and the grime and chaos of Chicagoland.

The arts and the tourists will save so many outbuildings in this little corner of the world. 

Town Hall Bakery.  Love. Forever. So many memories.

Pain-free riding at it's best.  Clear, clean roads and amazing sky.  

The hillside. Our first glimpse of the water at Ellison Bay.  Always a welcome sight.

Afternoon shadows.  Long. Slow. Day.

As I rode into Ellison Bay on Highway 42, I got a little weepy.  After all, I've wanted to ride up to this house since I first visited in 1998!  I could never really figure out how to make it happen without having it take a big chunk out of my vacation time and then there is the obvious difficulty of the children.  Most of my time here I have been the main Mom.  But here I am!!!! Granny and Ashby drove up on Monday as my welcoming committee.  Couldn't be better.  Big hugs and celebration, then a great supper and movie night.  Welcome home!!!

Which one of these women is unencumbered/retired?